


The Last Piece of Chocolate

by MistyBeethoven



Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [30]
Category: A Walk in the Clouds (1995)
Genre: 1940s, BBW, Chocolate, Depression, Distrust, F/M, Healing, Love, Love Stories, Marriage Proposal, Overweight, Post-World War II, Romance, Salesmen, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, St. Patrick's Day, Superstition, Tests, Waiting, Weight Issues, fortune, luck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22899790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven
Summary: Bad luck follows Sgt Paul Sutton around like a shadow: inescapable and always present. First, after returning from World War II his wife no longer loved him. Second he fell in love with a pregnant woman, Victoria Aragon, whose family ran a vineyard in Napa Valley. Thinking he had found true love and peace there, this belief was destroyed when Victoria chose the returning father of her unborn child over him.When the ex soldier knocks on my door, a fellow unlucky in love loser, I don't purchase a box of chocolates from him only to have Sutton bursts into tears on my doorstep. I let the poor salesman stay with me for as long as he desires, and to see if Victoria might change her mind, but when he ends up desiring me, I begin to question if the man's luck has improved because I love him back.Or if my luck is remaining as poor as ever because Paul Sutton is only on the rebound and mistaking gratitude for affection.I decide to give Paul a simple test to see if our love is a cruel trick of fate or if the last piece of chocolate isn't so unlucky after all...
Relationships: Sgt Paul Sutton/Me, Sgt Paul Sutton/Victoria Aragon
Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589944
Kudos: 4





	1. Misfortune

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Sgt. Paul Sutton entry. A sweet character well played by Keanu. I didn't really buy the romance between Paul and Victoria though. The chemistry just wasn't right to me. That said, I wasn't sure I could do an entry to the series not wanting to disrupt Paul's happy ending...
> 
> Then this idea occurred to me and I couldn't help myself.
> 
> Sorry Paul.
> 
> This is in part dedicated to my Grandpa and my good friend Barney. Both older men that meant the world to me and that I miss so much. Have fun in Heaven boys! :D <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sgt Paul Sutton shows up at my door with an almost empty box of chocolates, a torrent of tears and a sad story. I invite him to stay over despite my past history of misfortune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shoveled a heck of a lot of snow today and visited the Doctor. I am very tired and not having the greatest of days. Still, writing this helped out a lot. So thank you Keanu & God wherever you both may be! I know they are out there, just not sure where! ;) <3

My Grandfather would never eat the last piece of chocolate left in the box. Being from the Isle of Man, a little island belonging to Britain still holding fast to its traditions and folklore and being highly superstitious himself, he believed it was bad luck for some reason. So he would always find somebody else and offer it to them instead, thus passing on the chance of misfortune to some other poor unfortunate sucker and in the process looking like a generous human being to anybody unaware of the Manx myth.

Grandpa was a sneaky bastard.

My sister and I used to fall for it when he came to the door offering up the final chocolate until our mother informed us what he was up to. Then it became a game to make it so that that last piece was one of the better ones so he would be forced to hand it over and we could split it between us. 

We could be equally just as sneaky it seemed.

Only later in life did I start to wonder if maybe there was some truth to the superstition. Grandpa had a charmed life filled with some fortuitous occurrences. One of which was meeting my grandmother. After moving to Canada, he had shortly seen and fallen instantly in love with her. All of his friends had joked that he would never have a chance with her but what did my grandfather do? He waltzed right up to her and instantly stole her heart. His life was similarly a string of good fortune while it seemed like my mom's, sister's and my own life had not been so lucky.

We had never had a single qualm between the three of us about eating any final piece of candy.

My weight could attest to that fact.

Tired of bad luck I had moved out to Sacramento's beautiful Napa Valley and world renowned wine country. I made a few friends but in my shyness primarily kept to myself and forsook any type of romantic entanglement because my past misfortune advised me that I was doomed forever, the fat that helped create the belly I was ashamed of made up of years of too many lone pieces of chocolates left in a box. It was best just to keep to myself and stay primarily in my house when work didn't call on me to do otherwise. Nobody bothered me for the most part. My house was my sanctuary.

So I erroneously believed that it was safe enough to answer the door after hearing the doorbell ring.

I was wrong.

"Hello Miss would you be interested in purchasing a box of chocolates?"

I would have expected to hear these words being spoken by somebody rather short, very young, wearing a skirt and belonging to this scout troop or that. I really didn't picture being accosted to add to my weight by a very attractive, tall young man in his twenties or early thirties. His eyes were the same color as the chocolates he was pedalling door to door. The hair on his head was dark and tidy. Infact, everything about the salesman seemed clean cut and appealing.

And perhaps the oddest thing of all was that he looked somewhat familiar.

Looking at him I felt instantly self conscious, dreading what he would think of the woman that had answered the door. I was a few years younger, with long brown hair, green-gray eyes and a pleasant enough face but nothing remarkable. He would surely mark me as an easy target for his wares since I was obviously very overweight.

I was comforted by the fact that he didn't seem to be appalled by this, though.

"I...I don't know," I stated.

Money was never overflowing in my house. I worked for an elderly artist friend, who lived nearby, as his secretary and errand girl but he wasn't much better off than I was. The war had only moderately improved our situation, with many reunited couples and families desiring portraits to commemorate their reunions.

"Please," the stranger insisted, holding out a box of chocolates and offering me one.

I cursed my luck. There was only one piece in the darn box. Now for years I had consumed these last pieces, at first because I held no faith in the superstition. Not walking under ladders made sense because you could hurt whomever was on it or yourself. But not eating a stupid piece of candy because it was the only one left made no sense to me or my appetite. However, as I had started to hesitantly believe in my grandfather's fanciful idea, I'd eaten it anyway, not wanting somebody else to suffer bad luck.

However, looking at the handsome stranger and desperately wanting my luck to change, I looked the chocolate salesman in the eyes and said for the first time, "I'm sorry, I can't eat that; it's the last one."

I was proud of my courage until I saw his subsequent reaction.

Upon hearing my words, the man looked into the box, quivered his full bottom lip and burst into a torrent of sorrow filled tears.

I had no choice after that: I had to invite him inside.

And I had to buy his last box of chocolates too.

* * *

Sitting in my small kitchen, at an even smaller table, I brought my new acquaintance a glass of water as he dried his face with a handkerchief which had been safely tucked away in his jacket pocket. The last tear had fallen from his eyes so he deemed it as safe to finally go to work at wiping their remnants away.

"Here," I said handing him the glass.

He glanced at me, thanked me and started to drink it as I sat down to his side. "It's really not all that bad," I comforted. "I know it must be a terrible insult when someone as large as me refuses a chocolate but it had nothing to do with your sales technique, I promise."

A smile crossed his face then. He let a laugh out to accompany it, moved by my assumption concerning what had upset him and my attempt at making him feel better.

"That's not it..." he stated and looked at me in curiousity regarding my name.

"Erin," I replied.

"Like Ireland," he said with another warm smile despite the obvious sadness in his eyes. "Pretty name for a pretty girl."

Now I knew he was an expert salesman after all because he almost had me believing it.

"I'm Paul," he introduced himself. "Sgt Paul Sutton. Formerly of the 7th Infantry Division but now a seller of chocolates."

I shyly took the hand he offered to me and shook it. 

"Except for a brief stint in between where I was also a vineyard worker as well," he added to his resume rather sadly as he stared at my old table's circular wooden surface.

The words pained him to say but they helped answer the question which had bothered me whenever I studied his familiar face. I suddenly realized where I had seen Paul Sutton before: at the Aragon vineyard during harvesting time. One of the women that worked there had been posing for my boss, Barney McCaffrey. He had been invited to witness the last harvesting before the vineyard had been destroyed by fire and brought me along to try to help me overcome my shyness. It hadn't exactly worked but it seemed an odd coincidence that I had seen Paul that day when they had placed him in the large vat with the female grape stompers. I had thought that he was cute at the time.

And almost as equally as embarrassed as I had been. 

"How did you wind up working with the Aragons?" I asked.

The man took a deep breath before explaining his romantically unfortunate tale.

Before he had been shipped out for WWII, Sutton had married a woman named Betty on an impetuous whim. When he returned he discovered she hadn't read a single of the letters he'd spent time writing to her. Instead she kind of pushed him out on the road to sell chocolates. There he had met Victoria Aragon and helped her by pretending to be her husband so that her father wouldn't disown or kill her when he found out she was pregnant out of wedlock. For some reason he had not wanted her to go to the city.

I wondered why, I thought sarcastically but kept it to myself.

"We fell in love," Paul said.

"But Betty won't let you out of your marriage and is forcing you to sell chocolates door to door. That's why you started to cry on my doorstep?" I hazarded a guess.

"No," the salesman sighed. "She had fallen in love with another man it turns out. She was happy to get rid of me."

"Well..." I frowned. "Did Alberto refuse to let you marry his daughter after finding out about the deception?"

Paul Sutton shook his head from side to side. "At the start he was livid but after the vineyard caught on fire and I helped to restore it he accepted me."

I was thoroughly confused, failing to see what the problem was until Paul stated, "He actually urged Victoria to choose me when the father of her baby showed up and wanted to marry her...but Vicky...Vicky..."

The man broke down into another fit of heartbroken tears and I started to pat his back, trying to soothe him. It was a nice back and my hand enjoyed patting it and alternately rubbing it. Probably a little too much for its own good. It seemed to do a little good; Sutton calmed down a bit and then looked at his hands. "I can't believe you can pull a stupid grape plant out by its roots and you can still get the boot!"

His grieving was going to the anger stage now. I was well familiar with this process. It would bounce back and forth until he got over Victoria Aragorn, either by falling for somebody else or by choosing a life of being a lone wolf, such as I had done when my heart had been similarly broken.

There was another option too though.

"Maybe she'll come to her senses and take you back," I said, still massaging his back even though I no longer exactly needed to, the salesman looking more bitter than sad.

"And what good would that do?" he asked, turning to look at me in annoyance. "I'd still know that she chose some loser over me."

"She might have reasons," I stated, thinking that she probably did: she was in love with the jerk who had almost abandoned her. Although, why she had let a man as good hearted, sweet and handsome as Paul go for a selfish suitor was not evident even to myself. "You should stay close by just incase she changes her mind."

"You think she might not marry him?" Paul asked, flipping back to his yearning for Victoria Aragon.

"Well it couldn't hurt to wait and see" I shrugged.

Considering this he sighed. "I don't exactly have anywhere to stay.

I thought about how I felt that I could trust this poor broken man. I knew that his story must be true from the sincerity of his pain and how I had seen him at the vineyard months ago. There was little else I could do then to extend to him my next invitation. "Stay with me," I offered. "I have a room that's not in use and a cot for the times my sister visits. She's back up north again, though, so it should be fine."

"Thank you, Erin," Paul said gratefully.

The way he accepted, his gentlemanly words and manner made me chide myself for my generosity. Having such a sweet man around was a constant danger to the fact that I was trying to stay clear from stirrings in my heart. His own heart completely belonged to another, though, I knew that this time I could, hopefully, keep my distance and help him out, loser in love to loser in love.

"There's one condition," I said feigning sterness.

"What?" Paul asked looking worried that he would suddenly not qualify for the offer and I would revoke it.

"Tell me, if it's not too painful, why you started crying when you saw that single piece of chocolate left in your box?" I softened both my tone and expression.

Paul Sutton smiled his beautiful boyish grin again, and I was grateful he was more relieved than hurt at being reminded. "Because I knew who had eaten all the others: Don Pedro. He'd always get to them and eat them if his wife didn't stop him. He always liked me and seeing that last one left reminded me of him. He's Victoria's grandfather but he was like mine too: I'm an orphan."

I smiled sympathetically and nodded, grabbing the box off of the table and opening it to look at the last one again. Out of curiosity, I picked it up, unwrapped it and poked a hole in it to see what flavor it was.

I sighed at my bad luck.

It was a Bordeaux caramel, one of my favorites.

Picking up the chocolate I took a bite out of it and placed the rest back in the box earning a questioning gaze from my new houseguest. "Why didn't you want to eat it before?" he asked.

"I heard the last pieces of any candy were bad luck and today was the day I hoped my luck may change if I finally said no."

Paul Sutton cast on me the eyes of a doubter. "Where'd you hear that from?"

I took a deep breath and exhaled it loud and slow. "My grandfather," I answered.

With another kind smile, Paul took the second half of the chocolate in his fingers and raised it as if it were a glass of wine and he were making a toast.

"To grandfathers," he exclaimed before bringing the confection to his lips and eating the rest of the last piece of chocolate, effectively splitting the bad luck between us both. 


	2. My Missed Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul Sutton stays at my house in order to see if Victoria changes her mind. All the while, something starts to develop between him and myself unexpectedly in the meantime.

Having a man stay over at my house, at first, took a little getting used to. Especially since he was such a sweet and handsome one. The only men which I had previously ever lived with before were my father and grandfather; Both not always the most shining example of the human male. Being in the company of a man that I was not related to was different but appealing. He was a gentleman at all times and even though we were not interested in each other romantically (a fact I had to keep reminding my heart of repeatedly) we were still more than a little shy. He was a man and I hadn't always been treated kindly by those. And I was a woman, the sex Paul Sutton had already lost his heart to twice and had it returned, this last time in shambles. We liked each other despite our previous bad run ins with the opposite sex but remained self conscious all the same.

Paul kept an eye on the papers and his ear open to the latest gossip to see if there was any news about Victoria's current status. All he had heard, however, was that her and this professor were set to marry soon and that everybody was happy for them or feigning it well. This understandably left the chocolate seller in a very poor mood. To cheer him up, I took him to meet Barney, my boss.

Barney, a man in his seventies, thin as I was bulky possessed a large white beard and mischievous glint in his eyes, liked Sutton immediately. They talked for a bit about the war, a subject the former soldier obviously still had demons from and then my employer returned to his painting. Looking at the displays of McCaffrey's past works strewn messily all over the studio, Paul gulped and looked at me in shock.

"These are all _nudes_ ," he whispered.

I nodded. "It's Barney's specialty. He loves the female form in any size, shape or condition."

Glancing through the stack of canvases quickly, Paul looked away quickly and turned a deep shade of red to rival that of a tomato. His eyes landed on me and started to move up and down my pudgy figure. I was starting to turn red then too from his studying gaze.

Then he asked me something that turned me scarlet.

"Say, Erin, you have never posed for any of these ha..."

"No!" I exclaimed before he had even finished asking.

We both turned to look at Barney to see if we had earned his attention but he was still working away at his latest creation. Having finished sketching his model last week, he had begun to paint in the detail and was coloring in her chest now.

"Why would you think I'd do that?" I demanded quietly but urgently.

"Well you work for him, don't you?"

I rolled my eyes. "I like Barney. He wanted to help me out when I first moved out here. Besides... I'm too fat to be a model."

Paul looked at me shyly then. "I think you'd make a pretty one."

I fidgeted with the corner of the canvas closest to me. "There probably isn't a canvas big enough for me," I said sadly.

My houseguest came up to me and touched my shoulder. "Don't talk that way about yourself," he stated softly. "You're perfect just the way you are."

I was truly touched by his words and the sincerity contained in his expression. That expression changed for a moment to include some other emotion when I smiled at him. Paul looked confused and a little startled.

"That's what I keep telling her too!" Barney piped up, interrupting our linked gaze and we turned to look at the artist again in unison as he ignored us, dipping his paintbrush into the red paint and continuing to paint his muse's nipple.

Paul Sutton and I looked at each other and started to laugh.

* * *

Paul cheered up after that day at the McCaffrey studio. We also lost a bit of our shyness and discomfort around one another. The man was still watching for Victoria and had even talked to her once but he hadn't told me how it had gone nor did he seem quite as sullen as before. I told myself that maybe he had received from the woman some sign of hope but while I was happy for him if he had, I felt saddened in return by the thought also.

Seeing his brighter mood, though, I finally found the courage to approach a topic I had avoided for a bit incase it depressed my new friend.

"I was there at the vineyard that day they were squashing the grapes," I said as we sat at the table, sipping our morning coffee.

" _Squashing_ the grapes?" Sutton repeated with a bemused grin. 

"Yeah...is squishing more grammatically correct?" I asked innocently. "Grammar has never been my strong point."

"No that's fine," he said with a laugh.

"I was embarrassed for you," I said. "I felt bad for them sticking you in there but I wanted to ask you something...What on _Earth_ were you doing?"

His small eyes enlarged. "What?" he asked.

"Well," I continued. "After they put you in there, you kicked up grapes into Victoria's face, you side swept some other poor girl off of her feet and then you pulled some other woman over your shoulder! I'd never seen anything like it before! It looked like you thought you were in a wrestling match all of a sudden!"

Paul looked embarrassed as he squirmed in his seat. "I'm not always comfortable around women. Especially not a large group of them all prancing about with their legs on display," he defended. 

"I'm glad you're comfortable with me or else I'd be on my guard," I joked with what I hoped was a warm smile. "I wouldn't want to find myself flipped over your shoulder or lying on the floor one day."

"No," he replied. "I'm very comfortable with you. I like being with you, Erin."

The brown eyes looking at me suddenly seemed to contain something more to them again. It wasn't startlement but was vague and mysterious all the same, as if something was hidden underneath them and urging me to discover just what.

All I could think of to say, though, was, "And I'm comfortable with you, Paul Sutton."

I couldn't look at him, only lowered my stare to my coffee instead, feeling as if in that moment my own words were _far_ from the truth.

* * *

We were back at the studio; Barney was away so that I could clean the place up. He hated to be around when I did this, worrying that I'd disturb something from where he liked it being and had used the opportunity to flee from his workplace in order to find his next " _inspiration_." Paul was helping me and we were laughing and talking as we worked away. He had told me about growing up as an orphan. Family obviously meant a lot to him.

"Do you think that's part of why you fell in love with the Aragons?" I asked, putting a row of old encyclopedias back on the now dusted shelf while he pushed the broom across the hardwood floor.

"Yes," he replied wistfully. "I guess, from this distance it's certainly another reason why I stayed and wanted it to work out that badly. Although, it was a little bit of love at first sight with Victoria herself too."

I smiled sadly: Love at first sight. I began to ponder, wondering if it had felt anything like what I had suffered when I had first seen Paul Sutton standing at my door... 

He seemed to see my sadness, or in wanting an escape from his own, disturbed my silent reverie. "You said you'd had a run of bad luck when dealing with old cupid too. Blamed it on too many last pieces of chocolate," Paul stated with a skeptical gaze and leaned on the broom. "Give me a few examples."

I thought about my life and sighed. "It probably all started with a little boy named Morgan. I met him in first grade and he loved me. Head over heels infact. Came to my house window once to talk to me. My sister and I giggled about it at the time...a boy that young doing something like that. Once this other little boy named Jason pushed me in the coat room and called me fat. Morgan pushed him right back and said right there in front of everybody, 'Don't call her fat! I love her!'"

It was my turn to turn wistful then. "But his parents moved away. The class held a going away picnic for him, during which we both drifted off together to kind of be alone while everybody else played tag or some other game. I remember us talking a bit but not about what we wanted to: that he'd miss me and I'd miss him."

"You ever see him again?" Sutton inquired.

I shook my head. "And I don't _want_ to either. I'd rather him stay that sweet little boy forever in my mind. You see, after he left I fell in love with a boy named Jordan. We were separated too but when we finally got into contact again it was one of the _worst_ experiences of my life. He had all these other girls...he humiliated me. It wasn't any good but I really did love him. More than I even loved Morgan...that's why I said, 'Un un...no way. Never again. I'm bad luck when it comes to love.' So I've given it up. No use being a damn fool about it as W.C. Fields says."

Paul suddenly and unexpectedly abandoned his sweeping and came over to squat down in front of the bookshelf. He grabbed a Z and placed it back in its previous position. "But you really shouldn't just give up. Your name means Ireland...home of shamrocks. A girl named Erin should hold within her the luck of the Irish."

"Malarky," I returned teasingly.

He only ignored my cynicism. "You and I, we struck out two times but they say thatthe third one's the charm."

He was looking at me again in that odd way that made me want to blush so I looked down at my hands on the letter M and exhaled sharply. My thoughts went to a little boy whose name started with that particular letter. "I guess that was it for me; the most romantic incident of my life happening when I was all of six years old," I lamented.

"You never know what will happen," my friend advised.

Paul took my hand and I looked up into his face, meeting his eyes. My heart began to race as I realized that his head was slowly coming closer to mine.

"You know, you kind of look like him," I whispered.

Paul's face was so near that I could feel his breath on my lips when he asked, "The boy that said he loved you?"

"No," I replied. My lips dangerously close to meeting his too, I forcefully pushed my volume of the encyclopedia into his hands, knocking him over. "The boy who called me fat!" I exclaimed, rose to my feet and hurried out of the studio and away from Paul Sutton's inviting pair of lips.


	3. I'm Miss Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I set a task for Paul Sutton to perform to see if our luck holds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy St. Patrick's Day to everyone!
> 
> I couldn't let St. Patrick's Day pass without finishing this story up on it. With all the talk of luck...well it would have been a sin if I had!
> 
> When I was younger I hated the saying Erin Go Bragh. I lived in fear of the jokes that may come because of the similarity to the word "bra". Luckily none ever did. Which I was lucky of since I didn't wear one for years. :/

I left poor Paul back at Barney's studio while I walked the short distance back to my house. Once there, I paced and reprimanded myself. It had been incredibly rude to shove a book at the man and leave him there all alone. But when he had started to try to kiss me, and I had so very badly wanted him to, I had seen no other way out. To kiss Paul Sutton was to fall into a horrible trap of just having my heart broken again.

Paul was definitely on the rebound. Why else would someone so sweet and handsome fall for a large, round mess like myself? It could be the only _logical_ answer. That and the fact that fate must like to tease me by having my dream man appear on my doorstep with chocolates no less! It must be just to dangle him before my eyes like a horse with a carrot and then to rip him away, I convinced myself.

But Paul had already told me about his last two romances...he seemed to have a tendency to fall for women he had just met. I didn't want to be one more. I cared too much for him to hate him when it was all over and the next girl came along that caught his eye.

My ruminations were on this particular thought when Paul walked through the door. Apparently he had come looking for me when he had known that I wasn't coming back. My head start had been the only thing that had prevented him from catching up to me. He was hardly out of breath while I was still trying to catch my own; another reason for my self torturing mind to seize upon and tell me that any romance with Sutton was ill fated.

"Erin I..."

"Sorry that you were going to kiss me?"

"Sorry that I didn't make it all the way!" Paul exclaimed. "I love you, Erin! I can't stop thinking about you...how good and sweet you've been to me. And how sharing breakfast with you every morning feels just like it _should_ feel!"

He was looking at me with such adoring eyes, I backed into my kitchen sink because it terrified me.

"It's comfortable," he continued. "Every morning with the Aragons I couldn't quite get the feeling out of me that I didn't quite fit in. Maybe it was being an orphan and unused to such a big family but...with you I never worry about how to act or what to say...and that's what love is about: being able to just be yourself. I want to spend every morning with you for the rest of our lives."

It sounded beautiful. I was just as comfortable with him or, at least, had been before that averted kiss. The prospect of falling asleep next to him each night and waking up every morning sounded wonderfully perfect. A nice quiet little life between two people that loved each other. But this all brought me back to my belief that what Paul was feeling for me was only gratitude.

"Paul you've just been through a horrible breakup, two horrible breakups. You're confused," I tried to set him straight.

The ex-soldier shook his head from side to side. "I'm so sure of this, Erin, that the last time I saw Victoria I told her to give me two invitations to the wedding so I could introduce her family to my new girlfriend."

Now I was terrified, flattered, happy and mortified all at once. My heart could not help but race at the knowledge that Paul had been so confident of his feelings and proud of me that he wanted to show me off to the Aragons. That he had even requested an invitation to an event which had previously tormented him. At the same time, I dreaded to imagine what the Aragons would think about Paul having followed up their stunning Victoria with a girl as round as one of the grapes they harvested for their wine. They would think he had lost his mind in grief!

"Paul..." I said. "I love you but this is a mistake. I have really bad luck and you are just mistaking your feelings for me."

Words meant to dissuade only seemed to encourage Paul. He looked happier than ever. "Your only mistake was telling me that you loved me too. Now I'm never going to give up because I know you feel just the same way as I feel for you."

"I'm so big! There are plenty of thin girls out there for you!"

"I don't want them I want _you_!" he retaliated.

"I'm as fat and plump as one of those grapes you were squishing in the vat that one day!" I cried.

"And just as juicy!" Paul said in reply.

Well that made me blush, which caused him to turn scarlet and we stood in silent embarrassment in my kitchen for a bit trying to figure out how to resume our argument after hearing and saying something that sounded as if it bordered on being obscene. Paul ran a hand in agitation through his hair while I folded my arms across my chest. On the way, my hand momentarily pressed into something hard in my breast pocket and I realized it was the key to Barney's place.

"Wait you couldn't have locked up the studio when you left," I stated. "I have the key!"

Paul's small brown eyes widened. "Come on!" he exclaimed and offered me his hand.

We ran all the way back to the McCaffrey Studio hand in hand. I somehow found the strength to keep up with him or maybe Paul didn't run so fast so he could stay by my side.

* * *

The studio hadn't been robbed by the time we arrived back at it nor was it empty. Barney was back at his easel painting. He seemed unfazed by the fact that he had returned to his place to find the door unlocked and still only half cleaned.

"I am so sorry," I started to apologize. "I..."

"It's my fault," Paul took the blame. "Erin had to leave and I left without locking up."

"That's fine," Barney said, not looking at either of us but sweeping his brush against the canvas. "I understand what it's like with two young lovers. But if you wanted to get frisky you were more than welcome to use the studio. It's nothing I wouldn't have seen before."

Paul looked pleased with the older man's naughty assumption but I was painfully shy. "We _aren't_ lovers Barney."

Now Barney finally took his eyes from off his work which usually stole his focus entirely. He looked us up from shoes to hair and then sighed. "Well what's stopping you? Life's too short for you not to be!"

* * *

Barney's words only further fueled Paul's ardor. When we returned back home he held me from behind and kissed the side of my head. I brought my hands to his own linked around my large waist and held them. They were soft and warm and I liked the feel of them resting there near my belly button even if I was ashamed of my size. I soon realized then that Paul didn't seem to be and wondered why on Earth I was.

"As he said, Erin: what's keeping us? Life's too short," Sutton declared and began to kiss my neck.

The sensation of his lips, even softer than his hands, on the skin there sent a shiver through my chubby frame and I sighed, wanting to give in and make love to him. Even though I had been taught that that was wrong before marriage. Remembering this I somehow broke away. Paul's hand was reluctant to let me go and trailed from my waist to my rear, sending another jolt of pleasure through me.

I was back to resting against the sink with my pudgy arms folded. "I love you, Paul," I whispered. "But I've had too many last pieces of chocolates. It won't work."

"Damn your last piece of chocolate!" he shouted in frustration. "You're letting the chance for us both to be happy slip by because some silly old belief! I wish I could prove to you that that was just a bunch of old superstition your grandfather foolishly let control his life! You shouldn't do the same!"

I looked down at my waxed floor. It was true. I used to not believe in it until I had stopped and looked at my grandpa's fortune against my own misfortune. But then again, maybe I was just looking at his life through rose colored glasses. He had fallen off the roof once one winter, he slipped in the tub and broke several ribs and once his leg had gone through the porch and pushed all of his muscles into his thigh. Hardly lucky.

And Mom had often said how he hadn't been the greatest husband to her mother, my grandma, so maybe I was just painting it all just as much as Barney did with his canvases.

Was I really ready to give up a life with Paul Sutton because of the belief that the last pieces of chocolates were unlucky?

I raised my head and looked at the exasperated countenance of the man who wished to be my lover and made a decision to test both his affection and fate.

"Okay," I said. "I will give you a test Mr. Sutton. If you pass it then I'll believe that we are meant to be together because God wants it."

"Name it," Paul said confidently.

I nodded. "You spend four months selling your chocolates door to door. At the end of those two months, if you still love me, you show that handsome face of yours at my door again."

"Is that it?" he asked.

"No," I said. "You have to consume every last piece of chocolate in the boxes that you sell. I will do the same here with any of the candy I have, but really shouldn't. If we each do that and we're still as much in love with one another as ever, then I will know that God wants us together and no amount of bad luck can stop that."

Paul Sutton walked up to me boldly and offered me his hand. "Deal," he said.

I took his hand and shook it only to find the man pulling me towards him and bestowing upon me a fiercely passionate kiss. It was everything I had dreamed it would be and felt both sad and dizzy when he pulled away after we were both in danger of suffocating.

He looked down at me proudly. "Now _that's_ the right and proper way to seal this kind of a deal," he announced.

* * *

Paul left the next day. We had both agreed not to write each other. Sutton had been upset about that but I had told him it wasn't because I didn't want to read his letters but merely sad I wouldn't know where to write him back. Looking like he wanted to kiss me again, and saying that was another reason why he had fallen in love with me, I had to hold him back as we stood on my porch saying goodbye.

"If you come back they'll be plenty of time for that," I said in mock sternness.

" _When_ I come back," he said, placing his hat on his head. "And do you know what day that will be, Miss Erin Kelly Smyth?"

I studied him in confusion. "No. What day is it?"

"Why St. Patrick's Day," he said and quickly kissed me against my earlier protestation, obviously sure that God and luck were on his side even then.

* * *

The days passed slowly. I missed Paul sorely in that time and even Barney's sweet gestures and wry humor couldn't keep my spirits lifted.

"You worried about all those pretty flowers he's set eyes on?" Barney asked me about five weeks into the test I had placed for the chocolate salesman.

"Yes," I answered, rearranging the bouquet I had just placed in a vase on Barney's bookshelf; the same one with all of the encyclopedias Paul had briefly helped me set back once before trying to kiss me.

"Well..." Barney said. "Take it from me, a man can enjoy the sight of a beautiful flower growing here or there but his heart remains with the one that brought him the most joy growing in the garden of his heart."

I turned and looked up at my friend and offered him a small grateful smile. The artist patted my back as he returned to his easel and started the finishing touches on his latest masterpiece. While he did, I took a rose from out of the vase and held it close to my heart.

* * *

Victoria Aragon's wedding came and went and I wondered if Paul had attended it or not. I bumped into her once and congratulated her.

"Was Paul Sutton at the wedding?" I inquired tentatively.

The woman looked regretful for a second and I could tell she still felt bad about the pain she had caused him. "No," she said. "But he sent a present and one for the baby. I do not believe he will be coming back to Sacramento. The postmark was a fair distance away."

"Oh," I said, feeling my heart crack.

She studied me curiously. "Do you know Paul very well?" she asked.

"A little," I replied.

"He's a very nice man," she praised.

"Yes," I agreed. "I know."

* * *

Victoria Aragon's words had not instilled in me any particular confidence in Paul Sutton's return. If he had removed himself far enough from the area not to attend the woman's wedding it made me believe that he was not returning and had sought to get as far away as possible. I spent my Birthday in abject misery and if anything could have driven me from my alcohol abstinence to sample a bottle of what the region where I lived was famous for it would have been the fact that I was sure I would never see Paul Sutton again.

When most of March 17th came and went without so much as a knock at my door, I was doubly convinced Paul had realized that he didn't love me. Barney had given me St. Patrick's Day off so I could keep watch while he went off to revel and play Irish tunes in the various local pubs. This was his day to rejoice and everyone loved and welcomed the sight of him. Meanwhile, at my house, I kept myself busy knowing that it was all hopeless. It had been raining from morning to night, a condition which matched my gloomy mood. When the day was almost over, the clock reading 11:53 I felt that my chance for living happily ever after with Paul was over and that the last piece of chocolate was bad luck after all.

That was when I heard a furious knocking on my front door.

Rushing from my chair at the kitchen table, where I used to sit and have breakfast with the object of my affection, I flung open the front door to find Paul standing there. He was heaving, drenched in sweat and his clothes were all covered in mud.

Still he was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

"Eh-Eh-Erin," he managed to say and I pulled him inside and straight over to the chair that had always seemed to be waiting for him in the kitchen.

"Are you okay?" I asked, smoothing his hair back.

"I...I ran here. Every single vehicle that I could use to get here either broke down or sprayed me with mud along the way."

"Ohhhh!" I said in frustration. "Of all the bad luck!"

"No!" Paul said. "It was good luck in the end because I made it!"

The smile on his face was so joyful and content my lips at first mirrored it and then couldn't help but meet the man's to taste his own smile too.

We sat kissing at my kitchen table for about five minutes before we had to come up for air.

"See, we're meant to be," he proclaimed. "I love you even more than the last time I saw you! Infact, I couldn't trust myself to stay away before the whole four months were up so I had to get as far away as I could and miss Victoria's wedding."

I cursed my pessimistic mind which always jumped to the worst scenario. Paul hadn't been trying to get away from me. Well...he _had_ been but not because he hated me. He'd done it because he loved me so much.

"I'm sorry you missed the wedding," I apologized, knowing it was my fault.

"It doesn't matter!" Sutton stated. "Let them all come to ours!"

I laughed again. "We'll need a very big chapel to fit all of those Aragons. Wait....are you?" I asked, realizing what he meant.

"Yes," Paul said. "Will you marry me, Erin?"

I nodded my head softly as it was still framed by his large hands. "Yes."

Paul smiled down at me in purest love and contentment. "Did you ever stop and think, Erin, that your bad luck was merely my own good luck? And that my bad luck was your good luck too?"

"You mean that without your string of failed love affairs and without my own we never would have found each other?" I asked, understanding finally dawning on me in perfect epiphany.

"Exactly," Paul said.

I smiled up at him "Well then, you and I are two of the luckiest people God ever blessed in the world," I declared. 

"And you know what I say to that?" he asked.

"What?" I questioned in return.

"Erin go Bragh!" Paul Sutton cried out and kissed me as if I were the Blarney Stone.

And if I could, and God so willed it, I intended to make sure that Paul Sutton was lucky for the rest of his life and the one thereafter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this is dedicated to my Grandfather and my friend Barney McCaffrey who loved St. Patrick's Day. I tip my hat to both you men up in Heaven.
> 
> And to you too, Keanu Reeves, down here on Earth! Happy Saint Patrick's Day! ;D <3


End file.
